Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Important questions I’ve pondered while reading classic children’s books to my infant daughter

“The Cat in the Hat”

Is the Cat and the Hat holding Thing 1 and Thing 2 against their will? Are they getting enough clean food and water while he peddles them across the country in a crate with no air holes? Is PETA aware of the situation? Wait, are Things 1 and 2 even animals? Do they dye their hair blue or is it naturally that color? If I wore footy pajamas like theirs to work, would I get fired?


Things 1 and 2


“Guess How Much I Love You”

Why does Big Nutbrown Hare have to constantly one-up Little Nutbrown Hare? Can’t he just let him win at the Guess How Much I Love You game, even once? When Little Nutbrown Hare says he loves him to the flippin’ moon, can’t he just be like “Whoa, the moon? That’s so far — no way I can top that! I’d never say anything like ‘well hey, I’m pretty impressed you love me all the way to the moon, but guess what — I love you to the moon … and back! Suck it, Little Nutbrown Hare!’ No, I’d never say anything super douchey like that”?
 To moon and back
Does Big Nutbrown Hare also never let Little Nutbrown Hare win when they play Candy Land? Does he show off with fancy hook shots and dunks when playing a friendly game of HORSE with the neighborhood kiddos? Is he overcompensating for something? Does he also drive an obnoxiously large truck?

“Where the Wild Things Are”

Why does this one Wild Thing have human feet? Is he the mutant result of some sort of unethical science experiment gone horribly wrong? What in the actual fuck, Maurice Sendak? Why would you do this to me my sweet baby girl? How many years of therapy am I is my child going to need to stop having nightmares about the human-footed Wild Thing??

“Goodnight, Moon”

Is the mush gluten-free?
Goodnight Moon

Need a cure for insomnia? You should Have a Baby™!

Do you have trouble falling asleep night after night?

Does your mind start to race as soon as your head hits the pillow, no matter how tired you are?

Are the Ambien-induced hallucinations finally starting to freak you out?

Well, we here at Squirrel Thoughts Industries have finally discovered the secret to falling asleep quickly and easily: Have a Baby™!

Our patented Have a Baby™ technology will leave you so physically and mentally exhausted, your brain will have no choice but to shut down and drift off into sweet, sweet slumber mere minutes after you collapse into bed.

Under no circumstances will you wake up feeling well-rested and refreshed while using Have a Baby™ — you’ll get far less sleep than before, actually. But hey, at least you won’t lie awake all night worrying about it!


Have a Baby™ will allow you to fall asleep anywhere, anytime! [Image source:]


Side effects of Have a Baby™ may include:

  • Miniature human dependent on you for survival infiltrating your home
  • Taking a quick nap while nursing miniature human dependent on you for survival
  • Waking up two to 3 billion times per night
  • Taking a quick nap in the shower and/or on the bathmat in front of the shower
  • Pulling a Costanza at work by napping under your desk*
  • Taking a quick nap on your way to the office coffee pot after you wake up from your nap under your desk
  • Rapidly falling into REM sleep, which may cause weird dreams that involve Billy from Family Circus chasing you through your high school
  • Taking a quick nap during the therapy you need after dreaming that Billy from Family Circus was chasing you through your high school
  • Decreased effectiveness once baby starts sleeping through the night** because OH GOD IS SHE STILL BREATHING?!!?!
  • Taking a quick nap while blogginZZZZZZZZZZZZdifjadsre;s e
  • Heart exploding due to overflow of love and affection every time miniature human dependent on you for survival smiles or coos at you
My personal miniature human dependent on me for survival

My personal miniature human dependent on me for survival

*If my boss is reading this: I haven’t actually done this. I’ve only seriously considered it.
**Not that we know what that’s like.

#tbt to the time my mom tried to make me look like Hitler

My mom sent me this photo the other day, because she thinks it proves Lily looks like me.

Me Lily

         Me                                                                                                      Lily

I think it proves she tried to make me look like Hitler when I was a baby.

Me Hitler

           Me                                                                                                         Hitler

The resemblance is uncanny, amirite? I mean, with that choice of hairstyle, I’m not sure why she didn’t just draw the Fuhrer’s mustache on me and get it over with.

When I showed this photo to my husband and told him my mom thinks I look like Lily in it, he — without any provocation — replied, “Hmm. You look like Hitler.”

My mother, of course, vehemently denied any wrongdoing.

Convo 1

Convo 2

I think we all know which one of us is truly off her walker.

Some members of this household are not taking the projectile pooping issue seriously

I don’t intend to make this blog entirely about parenting now that No. 1 Munchkin has taken over our lives. And I certainly don’t want its focus to narrow to only her excremental tendencies. But I feel some people in this family are not acknowledging the gravity of the projectile poop situation.
My husband. It’s my husband.
Take this example from the other day. I was mid diaper change, and Lily really let one fly. It projected so far, it landed on the Stormtrooper clock in the nursery, about 4 feet away.
(What, you don’t have a token Star Wars relic in your nursery? Weird.)
Poo 1
Poo 2
For a little context, here is another view of the Stormtrooper, in relation to the changing table upon which the assailant sat:

Now that I see it in this photo, I think it’s probably more like 7 or 10 feet. A world record, no doubt.

Upon receiving such panic-stricken messages, I expected Zach to respond with an appropriate amount of sympathy. But because he was being a cranky pants that day (Note: When you become a parent, you instinctively start referring to all people by what kind of “pants” they’re currently “wearing” — silly pants, cranky pants, fluffy pants, copacetic pants, etc.), his response was something along the lines of:
“DERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Please don’t send so many texts in a row when I’m at work. I was in a big Lawyer Person Meeting and derrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
The text probably included a few more “derrrrrrrrrrrrrrs,” but I’ll save him the embarrassment of printing it verbatim.
See, Zach has not yet experienced the projectile poop. In fact, he’s even had the audacity to utter the phrase “I think it’s a myth,” as if I currently have the time and wherewithal to sit around making up shit about shit.
So instead of the bare minimum response of some feigned sympathy that I was expecting following this traumatizing event, all I got was a bunch of derrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs. This is my life, people.
Granted, my texts may have been a bit overdramatic. Especially since I sent them after I had already cleaned the poop off Lily and her targets. I mean, come on, guys … did you think I would leave my baby and her surroundings covered in feces while I took photos of it, just so I could blog about it later? What kind of mother do you think I am?

My new year’s resolution is to HAVE THIS DAMN BABY ALREADY (plus other pregnancy fun facts)

Well, our little munchkin was due to make her appearance into the world on Jan. 1, but, like her mother tends to, she’s running a little behind.

Since she’s dashed all hopes for a 2014 tax break or first-baby-of-the-year honors, she’s basically starting off her first year grounded, with about $1,000 already deducted from her allowance. That’ll teach her.

From what I can tell, I’ve had a relatively easy pregnancy, but after hitting the 40-week mark five days ago, I. Am. Ready. I’m anxious for labor to start and to meet this little bug who’s been growing instead me for the better part of a year.
If baby girl is still refusing to cooperate in a few days, we’ll start talking to our doc about forceful eviction, aka induction. Don’t worry, she’s been served proper notice.
This was actually taken at the 40-week mark. I'm three times this size now.

This was actually taken at the 40-week mark. I’m three times this size now.

I already nested/cleaned so long ago that things are starting to get dirty again, and I don’t feel like starting round two with this bowling ball-sized bulge protruding from my stomach. So instead, I’m writing a post on some things about pregnancy that have been particularly surprising to me.
You’ve probably heard all about the morning sickness, the mood swings, the need to pee every 2.5 seconds. But here are a few things “they” don’t tell you about pregnancy before you are pregnant that may or may not freak you out.
(I should probably preface this with: Someone who did a lot more research than I did prior to becoming with child might know these things. Also, I am weird, and weird things happen to me. So it’s possible “they” didn’t tell me about some of these things because I am the only weird person they’ve happened to.)
You won’t actually “feel” like you’re growing another human inside you for a while, and it will freak you the eff out. Sure, you’ll see what looks like the beginning of a baby in an ultrasound. You’ll hear the magical thub-a-lub of a tiny heart beat. Your uterus is supposedly blowing up like a balloon, but the only “showing” you’re doing for a while is courtesy of some massive stomach bloating. Depending on your hormonal load that day, you may accuse your doctor of being a g.d. liar because she keeps telling you there’s a baby in there, but clearly there is not, because you would be able to feel a human growing inside you, thankyouverymuch.
Consequently …
It will feel like ages between doctor’s appointments. Each day is a gift, and I hate feeling like I just want them to be over, but holy shit. Each day of the month will never drag by as slowly as it does when you all you want is confirmation that your little munchkin is still kickin’ in there.
Sometimes you don’t get morning sickness. This can mean one of two things: 1) You have a perfectly healthy pregnancy and are just “lucky” and don’t have to suffer through what’s considered one of the most miserable pregnancy symptoms; or 2) Something could be wrong with your pregnancy. As someone who’s experienced both situations (2 followed by 1), it’s pretty nerve-wracking to not have this ubiquitous symptom.
(Um, so, I’m not a doctor. I don’t *actually* know if these are the only two things it could mean. Maybe there’s a weird third option, like you’re actually spawning a miniature pony.)
The worst part is that Googling for information about lacking this symptom will often lead you to articles stating how some researchers have determined morning sickness could be an indication of a healthy pregnancy.
Researchers! STAAAP! Until you can confirm this is a black-and-white deal, quit putting this information out there for unsuspecting neurotics like me to stumble across and freak out over!
So, basically, I know most women would consider me “lucky” to not have morning sickness, but I would have given my left kidney to be puking my brains out every morning in exchange for the reassurance that something was, in fact, happening in there.
Also …
The Internet is your best friend and your worst enemy. A lot of weird-ass stuff is happening to your body when you are pregnant, so of course you want to know what is considered normal and what should send you into a full-swivel panic. But when you find yourself searching for phrases like “OMG is it possible that something else is making you seem pregnant when you’re not actually pregnant 12 weeks,” it’s time to stop. (Yes, I actually Googled something along those lines, due to the point I explained above. Following this and other ridiculous searches, and the panic they provoked, Zach made me put a moratorium on Googling things for one week.)
Really, if you have concerns, you should call your doctor/nurse/midwife. They will reassure you when a symptom is nothing to worry about or let you know if you should get checked out. If you do this enough, they will start to expect your calls. And if you start calling about the same ridiculous things over and over again, they will stop reinforcing your constant need for reassurance either by taking a really long time to call back or not calling back at all, in what I assume is meant to be a form of therapeutic neglect.
Not that I know from experience or anything.
Sleep may not come so easily, even at the beginning. You’ve probably heard that insomnia is common during the third trimester, because sleep experts typically do not recommend trying to catch your z’s with a watermelon protruding from your stomach.
However, I have been an insomniac since age 9. I literally have not had a good night’s sleep since the fourth grade. I had been looking forward to the fatigue of pregnancy in hopes that it would provide this elusive rest. But nope. That would just be too damn normal for me. So, apparently, instead of morning sickness, I got “bolt up wide awake at 3 every morning and never fall back asleep”-ness. (I have a team of medical professionals working on a better term for this affliction.)
On the plus side, I’m really not concerned about the lack of sleep most parents of newborns encounter, since that’s pretty much the norm for me. I’ve been training for it my entire life, apparently.
You can’t eat. Anything. This one’s two-fold: First, even if you aren’t afflicted with oh-my-god-kill-me-now morning sickness, it’s still likely you will find very few foods appetizing. All I could stomach for about two weeks was plain spaghetti with a tiny bit of Parmesan cheese.
Also, once you’re pregnant, all your most favoritest foods suddenly turn to poison, and eating them will surely kill you and/or transform your baby into a sock monkey.
Sushi. Alcohol, obviously. Soft cheeses. Wait, what?! You can’t eat soft cheeses when you’re with child? People. My life depends on cheese. Pregnancy has essentially eliminated half of its most delicious forms. It’s the worst.
“True Life: I Accidentally Ate Some Feta on a Salad So I Gave Birth to a Sock Monkey Instead of a Human Child.”

“True Life: I Accidentally Ate Some Feta on a Salad So I Gave Birth to a Sock Monkey Instead of a Human Child.”

The heartburn. DEAR GOD, THE HEARTBURN. Apparently, when your uterus is squishing the rest of your internal organs up through your throat, it makes it nearly impossible to digest food like a normal person. And don’t even bother looking up foods to avoid to prevent it. Out of the foods you’re still allowed to eat, they will ALL cause heartburn. All of them. Even the healthy stuff. For realsies. I’ve eaten bananas that have given me heartburn. I kind of thought bananas were the most easily digestible food known to humans. Not cool.
The only thing you can really “eat” that doesn’t cause heartburn is Tums, which have subsequently become my favorite food during pregnancy. If someone invented a candy necklace — but instead of candy, it had Tums strung along it — and marketed it to pregnant women, they would make at least a few dozen dollars off it. (I’ll let someone steal that idea as long as they give me 70 percent of the profits. Remember, we don’t get to cash in on that tax break for 2014.)
That “pregnancy glow” is BS. Unless by “glow,” they mean the “red glow of jawline acne,” I apparently missed out on this supposed pregnancy perk. I had terrible acne as a teenager, so I’m not really surprised the surge of hormones wreaked havoc on my skin once again. (But hey, who doesn’t want to look/feel like a teenager when they’re pregnant?)
Of course, using any of the standard acne treatments will turn your little tyke into the aforementioned sock monkey, so I’m kind of SOL on this.
If you’re having a girl, some people think it’s absolutely necessary to tell you about their friend/relative/random person they met at a bus stop who thought they were having a girl but it turned out to be a boy. I’m not gonna lie: I was really hoping we would have a girl. Of course, you don’t want to hope for one gender over the other too much, because there’s a 50 percent chance it will be the other one, and you don’t want your child to feel like they’re a total disappointment before they even exit the womb. Regardless, I was happy when the ultrasound revealed it’s a Baby Squirreltina Jr. who’s been kicking me in the bladder. (Squirreltina is obviously a girls name, in case that was unclear.)
But now, I’ve had a enough people tell me stories about girls turning out to be boys that I’m starting to become paranoid. (In what was probably the most asinine piece of unsolicited advice I received, someone told me I should “bring a blue hat to the hospital, just in case.” Seriously. That happened. And no, I could not even.)
I have no idea why people feel compelled to tell me this, other than that it must be some sort of sign from the universe and I should be prepared. So, don’t be surprised if it turns out to be a boy and we have to name him Sharknado because we didn’t have any boys names picked out so we panicked and that’s the first thing we could think of.
Of course, I’d still prefer a boy to a sock monkey.

19 photos I couldn’t bear to delete to make room for the iOS8 update

Apple released the latest iOS update for iPhone today. And, in what may be the firstest of First World Problems, it has everyone complaining about how much storage space is needed to download it. This means deleting a lot of useless apps and selfie duplicates.

Because I’m currently unemployed, I had a lot of time to really comb through my photos and only keep those nearest and dearest to my heart. Here are 19 I just couldn’t bear to part with.

1. This photo of me standing in front of a Beef ‘O’ Brady’s in a snowstorm


We’ve all done it.


2. This photo of Pancake in which it looks like she doesn’t have ears

Pancake no ears

We did not chop off her ears, I swear. She still has them. We are not bunny abusers. Please don’t report us to animal control.


3. This photo of a squirrel-shaped nutcracker


If you’re cracking your nuts with anything else … you’re doing it wrong.


4. This photo of me holding what I assume is a life-sized replica of Chewbacca as a baby


If my child’s head is this big, she’ll be living in my uterus indefinitely.


5. This photo of the face I made after getting the World’s Worst Haircut

Bad haircut

It kind of made me look like Toad from Super Mario. Or a literal squire.


6. This photo of when we met The Great Pumpkin

Giant pumpkin

It was, like, really big.


7. This photo of when I made latkes because I like to pretend I’m Jewish around Hanukkah


The smell also lasted much longer than anticipated.


8. This photo of the time I totally nailed a Pinterest recipe

Pinterest fail

If someone tries to feed you food that looks like this, do not eat it. I repeat: DO NOT EAT IT.


9. This photo of Zach pretending to get stabbed in the eye with a dart


He kind of looks like he’s enjoying it …


10. This photo of a guy on the sidewalk dressed up as a giant bottle of shampoo


I just really admired his enthusiasm.


11. This photo of the time I spilled pho on my pants at lunch


If I don’t document these memories, who will?


12. This photo of blatant desecration of religious symbols in the workplace

Religious discrimination

For those of you who also like to discriminate against “other” religions, this is a menorah and a miniature Festivus pole.

It’s like this newsroom has never even heard of the First Amendment.


13. This photo of a lawn gnome a business donated to be a prize in an Easter egg hunt I used to plan


 You would not believe the knock-down-drag-out that ensued between two fifth-graders battling over this coveted creature.


14. This photo demonstrating that many people do not understand appropriate use of quotation marks


Sooooooo … can I get some Fanta or not?


15. This photo of a guy on the sidewalk dressed as a Big Blue Blob

Blue guy

WARNING: If you are dressed up as anything — literally, anything — in public, I will stop and take your photo.


16. This photo of a delicious lobster dinner I enjoyed back in March


Back off. It could be the last one I ever get.


17. This photo of a cardboard cutout of my childhood hero, Scruff McGruff (Chicago, Illinois, 60652)


He’s the only thing that kept me from pursuing a life of hard crime.


18. This photo I took of Pancake in which she looks completely hammered

Drunk Pancake

Jesus. It’s like I want someone to call animal control on us.


19. This photo of me touching the World’s Largest Purple Spoon (maybe)


I think they’re selling themselves short. This is probably the World’s Largest Purple Spoon, at least.


I suppose now that these images will live in perpetuity on the Internet, I can delete them from my phone. The emotional toll still might be too much though. Better play it safe and keep them this round.

There was a point in my life when I thought my mom literally had eyes in the back of her head

Did your mom ever use the ol’ trick of telling you she had eyes in the back of her head to keep you from misbehaving when you were a kid? Well, mine did, and let me tell you, it’s probably the reason I’m not behind bars today.

Because I was super gullible, and like, 4, when she first pulled this on me, I took her warning literally, and was absolutely terrified I would accidentally catch a glimpse of this extra set of peepers while she was brushing her hair or something.

I imagined I’d be walking past the bathroom, minding my own business. All of a sudden, her hair would part a certain way, and … AHHHHHH! There they’d be: The Back Eyes. Staring me down, just daring me to do something they would see and could tattle to the Front Eyes about.



Of course, my imagination didn’t stop there. What if she actually had, like, 8 or 10 or 12 eyes back there, like some kind of weird hybrid spider head?!? And some of them looked like those eyes that are actually mouths??

I decided I should probably behave, because maybe if I did, The Back Eyes would no longer serve a purpose, so they’d shrivel up and disappear, their very existence no longer plaguing me.

Luckily, I wised up a few years months later and realized my mother didn’t literally have eyes in the back of her head, just some weird sixth sense moms have that alert them to even the most minor transgressions their children commit. At least, I haven’t accidentally discovered concrete evidence otherwise. Yet.

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